Rosemary watched with interest.“Do you have trouble sleeping?”
“Sometimes.”The word left out the truth of the dark, quiet nights, unpredictable in their attack, that left her unable to sleep until the first light of the sun made her eyelids heavy at last.
“I could help you,” Rosemary said.“I have a knack.”
Corinthia chuckled, ready to good-naturedly humor this pretty woman with her silk and her funny ways, though she believed in nothing that smacked of the new-age.“Cocoa first,” she said.“Then you can cure my insomnia and I’ll go right to bed, like a good girl.”
Steam rose and the air filled with fragrance.Corinthia strained the milk, slowly blended the cocoa powder, and then carefully poured the cocoa into two cups.
The cups were small and they finished it standing right there in the kitchen.When Corinthia was done, she placed the cup back in its saucer with a decisive clink, like a bell ringingtime’s up.
Rosemary set hers down as well, only this time the sound dinged the timer starting again.They weren’t finished yet, it seemed to say.Rosemary gestured:come closer.
“You’re not going to bean me with a frying pan, are you?”
“I’m going to massage your temples,” Rosemary said, her voice matter-of-fact.
Corinthia didn’t normally like to be touched by strangers, but she knew Rosemary’s name and Rosemary had complimented her Cabinet of Chocolate and they both approved ofAlien Space Lesbians, and now they couldn’t be considered strangers, could they?On top of that, it had been a rather long time since she had been touched at all.Perhaps it was the influence of the Halloween moon, but this overture seemed like a treat and not a trick.
And so, by the time she came out of her thoughts long enough to realize that Rosemary’s fingertips were already brushing her temples, Corinthia did not pull away.
“Close your eyes,” Rosemary said.
All was dark save for the afterimages of the kitchen lights.The scent of the chocolate and flowers and herbs softly perfumed the air.Corinthia breathed in as Rosemary’s firm fingertips stroked her temples, causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise.No one had touched her like this in so long that it came as quite a shock, almost literally electric as tiny pinpricks tickled her scalp like static.It would have been unseemly to sigh as the pleasure of almost uncontrollable relaxation rolled through her like a warm, deep ocean wave, so Corinthia held her breath for a moment instead.
“All done,” Rosemary said.She pressed a fingertip to the end of Corinthia’s nose and wiggled it, teasingly.“You can open your eyes.”
Corinthia obeyed, slightly scandalized by the nose-booping.“Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“Will I fall asleep now?”
“Lie down and find out.”
Corinthia realized that half of the remaining candy had disappeared from the bowl, and could not fathom how that might have happened, short of patting down Rosemary’s hidden pockets.“Thank you for finding my wallet,” she said.
“Thank you for losing it,” Rosemary replied, moving toward the door, possibly with half the contents of the candy bowl.“I wish you beautiful dreams.”
They were at the door.
“I wish you…” Corinthia paused, unsure of how to finish this unusual parting.Then, as she opened the front door, she thought of the book Rosemary had taken.“I hope you enjoy the romance.”
“I certainly do,” Rosemary replied.With that, she kissed her own fingertips and blew the kiss across the threshold to Corinthia, then turned and was gone from sight.
Corinthia closed the door.
Beaufort roused himself and loped to the front window, looking left and right, before finally letting out a disconsolate howl.
Corinthia looked out the front window.There was no one to be seen.
Rosemary was already gone.
Corinthia led Beaufort away from his post and then let him into the fenced backyard.Occasionally this meant shooing him away from howling at squirrels or birds, but even if he had let out a howl or two, it would have been all right because her neighbors on all sides ascribed to a sort of unspoken, reciprocal noninterference pact which would have made the United Nations proud.
After luring Beaufort inside with a tiny nibble of chicken, Corinthia dropped heavily onto the couch, unsure of what to make of any of it.
She finally settled for lying all the way down while picturing Rosemary’s clever face and mysterious eyes.There were things to do before bedtime—things to be tidied or ordered; taken out or put away—and yet Corinthia did none of them.Instead she was already composing the story for Stevie, imagining how Stevie would laugh at the idea of Rosemary rubbing Corinthia’s temples; the kiss that winged its way across the threshold; how Stevie would ask if it really worked, and how Corinthia would shake her head with a smile, because:of course it didn’t.
